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tavern he refreshed himself with biscuits and wine; then he made for the palace of Kandive the Golden.
    The palace loomed before him, every window and balcony aglow with light. Among the lords of the city there was feasting and revelry. If Prince Kandive were flushed with drink and unwary, reflected Turjan, the task should not be too difficult. Yet, entering boldly, he might be recognized, for he was known to many in Kaiin. So, uttering Phandaal’s Mantle of Stealth, he faded from the sight of all men.
    Through the arcade he slipped, into the grand salon, where the lords of Kaiin made merry like the throngs of the street. Turjan threaded the rainbow of silk, velour, sateen, watching the play with amusement. On a terrace some stood looking into a sunken pool where a pair of captured Deodands, their skins like oiled jet, paddled and glared; others tossed darts at the spread-eagled body of a young Cobalt Mountain witch. In alcoves beflowered girls offered synthetic love to wheezing old men, and elsewhere others lay stupefied by dream-powders. Nowhere did Turjan find Prince Kandive. Through the palace he wandered, room after room, until at last in an upper chamber he came upon the tall golden-bearded prince, lolling on a couch with a masked girl-child who had green eyes and hair dyed pale green.
    Some intuition or perhaps a charm warned Kandive when Turjan slipped through the purple hangings. Kandive leapt to his feet.
    â€œGo!” he ordered the girl. “Out of the room quickly! Mischief moves somewhere near and I must blast it with magic!”
    The girl ran hastily from the chamber. Kandive’s hand stole to his throat and pulled forth the hidden amulet. But Turjan shielded his gaze with his hand.
    Kandive uttered a powerful charm which loosened space free of all warp. So Turjan’s spell was void and he became visible.
    â€œTurjan of Miir skulks through my palace!” snarled Kandive.
    â€œWith ready death on my lips,” spoke Turjan. “Turn your back, Kandive, or I speak a spell and run you through with my sword.”
    Kandive made as if to obey, but instead shouted the syllables bringing the Omnipotent Sphere about him.
    â€œNow I call my guards, Turjan,” announced Kandive contemptuously, “and you shall be cast to the Deodands in the tank.”
    Kandive did not know the engraved band Turjan wore on his wrist, a most powerful rune, maintaining a field solvent of all magic. Still guarding his vision against the amulet, Turjan stepped through the Sphere. Kandive’s great blue eyes bulged.
    â€œCall the guards,” said Turjan. “They will find your body riddled by lines of fire.”
    â€œ Your body, Turjan!” cried the Prince, babbling the spell. Instantly the blazing wires of the Excellent Prismatic Spray lashed from all directions at Turjan. Kandive watched the furious rain with a wolfish grin, but his expression changed quickly to consternation. A finger’s breadth from Turjan’s skin the fire-darts dissolved into a thousand gray puffs of smoke.
    â€œTurn your back, Kandive,” Turjan ordered. “Your magic is useless against Laccodel’s Rune.” But Kandive took a step toward a spring in the wall.
    â€œHalt!” cried Turjan. “One more step and the Spray splits you thousandfold!”
    Kandive stopped short. In helpless rage he turned his back and Turjan, stepping forward quickly, reached over Kandive’s neck, seized the amulet and raised it free. It crawled in his hand and through the fingers there passed a glimpse of blue. A daze shook his brain, and for an instant he heard a murmur of avid voices … His vision cleared. He backed away from Kandive, stuffing the amulet in his pouch. Kandive asked, “May I now turn about in safety?”
    â€œWhen you wish,” responded Turjan, clasping his pouch. Kandive, seeing Turjan occupied, negligently stepped to the wall and placed his hand on a